Holy virgins Batman! If you have a keen eye (and by that I mean, if you're one of the five people who actually read these things), you'd notice from the attendance sheet that we had no fewer than 6 virgins on trail for #635. Surely that must be a record! AND STOP CALLING ME SHIRLEY!

We mingled with many-a-cilvilian at the Ten Stone on South Street - a venue where the hash has not been in quite some time. I think we were pretty well behaved, all things considered. The close quarters in there lent itself to heightened interaction between the hasher and non-hasher communities... But it was a happy marriage, and I have every expectation that there will be many more Ten Stone hashes to come.

​Above you'll see SOTG during chalk talk, leading this particularly rag-tag group of hlessil on our dark journey. Truly, reader, she is El-ahrairah to her people!

Once again, this On-Sec found himself too drunk and unaware to activate his GPS prior to starting trail, which is unfortunate because it was quite scenic and lovely... Pictured here is the second half of it.

The first half, I sorta recall, took us through the mean streets of West Philadelphia (a.k.a. Penn's campus). It was chock full of Mean Girls ("ummm... you guys are like, so sweaty") and violin playing, calculus performing Asian grad students. In a fantastic piece of racist behavior, Goose nearly accosted one believing that he was on the verge of capturing the hare: our very own Asian Just Bryan. BN occurred at West Philly's William Street Common.

Highlights from last night are too numerous to count, but let me try to include a few gems:

Circle started with a solemn and uncharacteristically respected moment of silence for Chyna (and to some degree, Prince).

Sideshow's passport has nearly disintegrated due to near saturation with boob and hoo-hah sweat.

Mismanagement needs to host a learning clinic for hashers to assist in the art of schooling virgins.

Amazon party - nuff said.

Just Timae has the most beautiful "thoughts" this side of the Mississippi.

Overheard on trail: "I was eating p!#$y and kicking a$$"

Just Colleen: NO JINXING (you got it dude)!

Bitch $hots short changed Just Black Chris at least 12" in her artist's rendition.

I learned a new word, "Sorostitute"

But most importantly... WE HAD A NAMING.

The BFM's own super over-achieving, wild-child rearing, nearly perfect attending, formerly Just Pete is now and forever:

Congratulations and welcome to the club STFT - you deserved it!! Special mention goes to Silence of the Goats, who not only bequeathed a name for the very first time, but it also happened to be for Pete - her virgin so many months ago. You did it Goats! **tear**

A gang of awesome, onesie-wearing hashers met up at JJ Bootleggers for some very slowly made, all you can eat tacos.

The adorable frog and seductive monkey gave us their spiel on whats what and then we took off! Some of us flying and hardcore parkouring as Superheroes and Flying Squirrels do and some of us running like normal humans.

Our gaggle of onesie wearers made our way to wawa to grab a quick round of free coffee and to terrify a few onlookers. Then we were off again to our tasty, thirst quenching beer near.

Back at JJ Bootleggers - Cummingtonite showed off her fancy new eyebrows, Goose was given his BIRTHDAY DOWN DOWN, I shared in taking birthday shots, and that's all I remember! I will write more here when I find that damn On-Sec notebook.

Fógraí / Action:Next week’s hash is a onesie Hash so get shopping if you don’t own oneBoston Marathon Hash weekend is next weekendPhiladelphia Union vs DC United Tailgate May 20thBFM are signed up for the Mayor’s Cup (So you racists better sign up under the BFM and don’t be a Benedict Fuck the Hash)

Uncharacteristically, RA extraordinaire Silence of the Goats found herself running chalk talk all by her lonesome on this temperate March evening. Being the consummate leader and designated driver that she is, SOTG made the command decision right then and there that the pack would ABANDON the beer near in favor of more athletic pursuits...

At this news, the pack remained curiously silent, so off we went.

Despite this near coup d'etat of standard hash protocol, the pack found itself not at one, but at TWO beer nears - but not before an epic cock tease of a false trail, 80% of the way up to our old abandoned railroad jaunt at the Trestle. A few tears and rolled ankles later, the pack found itself back on track to the true beer near at the Trestle Inn where, in a shocking display of Maoist suppression,​we were explicitly told that drawing 4x scale cock pics on their patio furniture would be looked down upon.

​In the wise words of Michelle Tanner - HOW RUDE!

A short time later, the hash wound its way to the second beer near of the night at the Lorraine on 15th and Ridge. This hasher suspects that there will be many Thursday nights to come at this hidden gem of a bar, which can sustain all the cornhole and public urination that the hash can throw at it, so let's consider this a challenge people. Here are some other highlights from the evening:

Apparently, Manual Fieta's dog is a huge twat.

Gag Reflex wouldn't know a Lisa Turtle if it bit him on the ass.

Bitch $hotzz has an uncanny ability to sniff out fried chicken on trail.

Sideshow takes it down due to fantastically Bernie-esque campaign zeal.

The Las Vegas over/under on Just Colleen's 2016 Hash Crash total now stands at 19.

Just Rose is an expert in Egyptian Fractured Cock Masturbation technique.

That about covers it for #632. In an aside, you may have noticed that Hash #630 is curiously missing from the trash. As one who aspired to achieve 100% trash on the year - this one injured me. After some investigating, turns out we can blame Uncle Bad Touch for the whole fucking snafu. Taco - I still love you.